


The Arc of Conflict, Fragment e15,1: The woman with a hint of gold in her eyes

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [94]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Antarctica, Brazil, Conversations, Engineering, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Gods, Identity Issues, Self-Discovery, South America, Vishkar Corporation, Walkabout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 23:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Katya Volskaya's government in Russia has destroyed the omnium Koschei, and held their own against the Gods of Oasis. With no point to additional fighting, the overt war has paused. But covertly, the conflict carries on. The gods, after all, still have a plan, and will do what is needed - one way, or another.Zarya has continued her walkabout, and has made her way to Brazil, still trying to figure out who she is now, and what she needs to do about the conflict growing in her homeland. Along the way, she's finding the world is already a little changed - maybe more than anyone even realises.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	The Arc of Conflict, Fragment e15,1: The woman with a hint of gold in her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^
> 
> Special thanks to Sitriga for Brazilian cultural help again. Thank you! ♥ But if anything feels wrong here, it's not her, it's me.

"You look like the sort who's travelling," the bartender said. "Even more than most."

The restaurant's bar wasn't empty. A thin crowd, perhaps, at a time too early for dinner. Not too early for Happy Hour, no, and on a Friday or Saturday, the scene might be different, but it's neither of those days. No, this - this was a Thursday, and most of the room was busy trying either to wrap up a deal or talking about how they were going to wrap up a deal the next morning, before lunch, they hoped.

"I am," the pink-haired traveller said with a curt nod, in her long coat and her well-worn-in hiking boots and her duffel bag, a bag that had been dropped from her shoulder as soon as she sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

"Mmm," the black-haired bartender replied, knowing reticence when she saw it, and let the woman commune with her alcohol.

"Antarctica," the pink-haired woman said, after finishing her first drink. "McMurdo, then South Pole Station. I heard it is nice this time of year."

_Antarctica, nice?_ the bartender thought, as the conversation unexpectedly continued. _That's unlikely._ "Flying out in the morning?"

"Walking. Until I cannot. Then, a boat."

The bartender laughed, glancing back over to the pink-haried woman. "That's quite a hike."

"I know. It is the point. Another, please," she said, motioning to her empty drink.

The bartender took the glass, put it in the sink with a few others she needed to wash next, mixed another kvas, and placed the new serving efficiently on a napkin in front of the woman, before moving on to the dirties.

"There's a little gold in your eyes, isn't there?" Zarya thought, or thought she thought, before she realised she'd said it - quietly, but aloud.

"Huh?" the barkeeper asked, as she blinked, surprised by the observation. "Oh! I know." She smiled, flipping a glass upside down, freshly cleaned and dried, ready for the dinner rush. "You're observant - most people don't notice. It came with the therapy."

"Did it," Zarya stated, rather than asked, a little dubious, but not skeptical.

"Yep. They told me it'd happen," the bartender continued. "I like it. It's just a little bit of sparkle." She looked into the Russian's eyes. "You know, if you're thinking about losing those contact lenses - getting this done - you should. It's completely painless, and my vision has never been better."

"Ah," Zarya said, noncommittally. "So, you... used to wear glasses, and now, do not?"

"I did once the cataracts and macular degeneration set in," the bartender said, putting another glass, just as freshly cleaned as the last one, silently down on the counter with its compatriots.

_She moves gracefully_, the Russian thought. _**Smoothly**. Not entirely like us, but..._

"So I went to the new clinic - we have one in the complex - and the doctors there said they could fix that, and a bunch of other, nagging problems, too. Since it's all national health, so I said sure, hit me up!"

"The complex?" Zarya asked, suspecting. She'd spotted the gleam on the way in to town.

"The apartment building where I live. It's in my family's neighbourhood, New Moema." She gestured towards the west, not the north, as Zarya had guessed.

"_New_ Moema?" the Russian asked, curiosity piqued.

"Omnics took care of the old one, in the war," she said, with a shrug. "Not a lot left, and the government wanted us out, but... some of us stayed. And we started over."

Zarya nodded, an understanding grimness in her expression. "I know that experience all too well. The complex is Vishkar, I suppose."

"Partly," she said with a nod. "It's a joint development with the tenants' union and a couple of local companies."

_That musician activist, Lúcio - he can not be happy about that_, Zarya thought. _After all he did to lead the people in kicking them out..._

"I know, Vishkar used to have a rep, after what they did earlier on," the bartender continued, naturally oblivious to Zarya's musings. "But this time, they worked with us, instead of just stomping their way in. They're nothing like they were - not since Vaswani took over."

"So it has worked out."

"Yeah. Before, everything was still pretty, hm. Improvised. After the war, you know. But now, we haven't had a fire in two years! Better water, too. And the sewer system they added" - she chuckled - "hoo, in the summer, the smell used to get _really_ bad. Nobody misses that!"

"Two years without fire is an improvement?" Zarya asked, wondering exactly how often they had fires before.

"Some improvisations were better than others," the woman on the other side of the bar said, with a shrug. She paused, and picked up the next glass. "Your Portugeese is very good, but there's a little accent. Russian, right?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. It was that or German."

She gave Zarya a knowing look.

"You're that weightlifter who joined the Russian army, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Fought against the omnium, in Siberia. Aleksandra Zaryanova, isn't it."

"...it is." Zarya frowned at being recognised. The strongest woman in the world doesn't hide easily, even when she tries.

The bartender looked like she was going to ask something, but after a moment, sucked in her lips, and did not. "Sorry. I'll keep it to myself," she said, and went back to the glasses.

"Thank you." She took another drink from her glass. "But... you are?"

"Joana," she said, tossing the glass into the air, drying it with the towel without even holding it, spinning it around without a direct touch.

_Neat trick_, the Russian thought, before thinking a little more.

"Cataracts, you said? Macular degeneration?"

"Yep."

"Were you injured?"

"No," Joana grinned. "Just turning sixty. It happens to us all."

Zarya stared for a moment, before stopping herself, surprised, and a little confused.

"..._sixty?!_"

"Yeah." Joana put the last cleaned glass away, grabbed a variety of mixers, and started setting up a round of batidas as a new ticket appeared on the order screen. "Fifty-nine for another three weeks, if you want to be particular about it." She grinned, playing with another glass. "Middle age isn't so bad. You start to feel kind of... grounded. Like you know how things work. And between the new eyes and the new apartment and everything else, I haven't felt so good in ages."

"You look like you could be _thirty_."

"Seriously?" the bartender asked, with a little chuff of a laugh. "That's a new one. Well, if I'm going to be getting younger, I hope I stop sometime soon or I'll end up back in bartending school."

Zarya nodded, considering what she saw, and said nothing.

Joana looked at the Russian's empty glass. The bar in the restaurant remained quiet, but a few more customers had started to fall in, early, before dinner - the usual, for a Thursday.

"You seem pretty done with your kvas. Want something else after I finish these up, or are you waiting for someone?" She glanced at the clock. "Dinner service won't start for another 15 minutes..."

"Please," Zarya said, as the bartender stacked drinks on a tray, and motioned for the waiter to carry them off.

Once the other order was away, the Russian offered her glass to the bartender, making sure to get just a moment of skin contact as she handed it over.

_Nothing_, she thought.

But with the touch, the bartender smiled a little more deeply, and Zarya caught it.

_...or is there?_

"No trouble at all," Joana almost purred, extra warmth settling into in her voice.

"Particularly not for a hero."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twenty-third instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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